Some Days are Better Than Others
by FourSilverArrows
Summary: ON HOLD. During a training mission for the new personnel, someone tries to kill Sheppard. Warnings for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hope I don't step on the canon too much. Now, most of the new personnel I'm going to mention are OFCs and OMCs. Don't worry; there will be plenty of the main cast.

Disclaimer: I don't own John Sheppard (or Atlantis). Because of this, I weep every night.

Beta: J.A.B.

Spoilers: First Season, The Intruder, Runner, Instinct, maybe more

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Chapter 1:

He was tired and realized that the only way he was going to make it was if he got coffee—lots and lots of strong coffee in a nice big cup.

John Sheppard, newly promoted to Lt. Colonel, let himself go on automatic as he shuffled down the maze of halls in Stargate Command in search of his morning jolt. He hadn't slept much and he was sure that he would need to change his clothes soon or they'd send out the hazmat team to decontaminate him.

He scrubbed his hair with his left hand and smiled faintly when he could feel most of it standing up on end. The pilot in him liked it that way. He was pretty sure it gave him the 'I'm cute, take me home' kind of look. In addition, if nothing else, it was a good way to get McKay's goat.

Hell, half the time it also got Dr. Zelenka's goat. The little Czech scientist had his own wild haired thing going on and he didn't like the competition.

By the time John found his objective, he was more alert and his heartbeat was slightly elevated. His right hand had unconsciously gone to rest on the butt of his holstered sidearm as his eyes slid from side to side.

Searching . . . looking . . .

Looking for Wraith.

And Genii.

John snorted softly at himself as he poured out a cup of coffee. He sipped the hot stuff carefully as he turned to go to the conference room he had been using since his promotion.

He didn't notice when his right hand automatically went to his gun as he used his left to hold the cup.

It was strange how his nerves jangled here on Earth. After all the time he spent running from the Wraith, second guessing himself as he tried to be a leader and defend Atlantis, and longing for the former 'quiet' of home, he had thought he would be thrilled to be back.

That feeling had lasted about two minutes once he stepped foot on Earth. Two minutes to find out that Atlantis was his home now, and that he wanted to go back as soon as humanly possible. He missed Atlantis almost as much as he missed flying that month he had spent grounded when he . . . well, he shouldn't dwell on that now.

He had new personnel to help pick for his city.

To be honest, John had flushed a little when Dr. Weir asked him to assist in picking out the new rotation of military members for the Atlantis Expedition. She said she trusted his judgment and that she'd do whatever she could to facilitate pushing his choices through the red tape and past the brass.

Someone saying that they trusted him, and his judgment, and with something this big, was a new experience for him.

Sure, Weir had to trust him the last year they were stuck in the Pegasus. They had been cut off from Earth, so her trust had kind of been forced from her. Now that Earth was in the picture, he had half expected to be replaced or reassigned.

He had never expected more than to be a test subject when he went through the stargate to see what they could find of the Ancients and their Lost City. John was just as shocked as the others were when events conspired to make him the ranking military officer and responsible for the safety of so many.

Knowing it was unlikely that he would have this influence and discretion again, John felt the responsibility press in on him again as he absently retook his seat in the conference room. He turned one of those cheap Bic pens in his hands while he tried to focus his attention on the thick files in front of him on the conference table.

This was a big deal and he was almost afraid he'd blow it by picking the wrong people to help in the rebuilding process.

He reached out his right hand to spread the files out as if they were a deck of cards. He noticed that the neatly typed pages that listed the accomplishments, military career paths and psych evals were for over fifty hopefuls.

Having never been a strict by-the-book man, he had met with as many of the applicants face to face as he could. He was relying as much on his gut feelings of the applicants as he was the pretty words on the piles of paper. Just to see their expressions and their body language as he questioned them.

To feel them out.

John wanted the best for his city—the best possible chance for it to survive and for his people to survive against the choking threat of their enemies.

He wasn't here to get bodies to fill the positions of the dead and missing, he wanted the finest, those prepared both mentally and physically for the challenges that the original members of the Expedition had experienced.

It was a hard concept to convey to the top brass and the applicants but, in the end, he was very satisfied about the people he chose to recommend and was he happy that most of his choices were given the green light.

With his new rank of Lt. Colonel, and his position as the official commanding military officer of the expedition secure, John was ready to return to Atlantis with new hope.

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It was early morning in Atlantis when John Sheppard bounced into Dr. Elizabeth Weir's office as if he were an overgrown puppy with its first chew toy.

It always surprised the expedition leader when she saw the open humor in her ranking military officer's face. After all the Atlantis personnel had been through since they decided to step through the gate and into the unknown, she was glad John still had his basic optimism still in place.

"We're about ready to go to P3M-390." John almost flung himself down onto one of her comfortable white chairs. He settled in with his arms crossed over his chest as he absently bounced his right knee to keep his excitement under control.

"The planet with just rocks and water? How's Rodney taking it?" Dr. Weir let her paperwork go as she leaned in her chair to bask in the Lt. Colonel's enthusiasm for a few moments. Lately, it seemed that hers was in short supply and she was glad to see John's still in action.

John raised his left eyebrow, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought of Spock on Star Trek. She almost laughed to herself as she remembered having the same thoughts when Teal'c of SG-1 had done the same thing during her very brief command of the SGC.

Sometimes, she even caught Teyla doing it.

"McKay is being . . . McKay. Since there is no technology or power source, he wants to leave it up to the new teams to explore the place."

"And you said?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Sheppard did that half nod, half chin lift that made him seem to be even younger than he looked right now in his exhilaration.

Dr. Weir allowed herself a grin. Rodney had always been a little hardheaded and impertinent, even on his best behavior. It amused her to see him butt heads with Colonel Sheppard over the missions, and to hear their running 'war' of words.

She shifted a few things on her piled up desk to find the mission brief John had submitted yesterday. "I see you're going to be taking three of the new teams out on this one. I was wondering when you would finally let them out of Atlantis."

She had wondered when, after months of instruction and practicing had gone by, why the new Atlantis reconnaissance teams were still twiddling their thumbs and still doing light duty in the city.

"Well, they're going to be out there soon . . . on their own. I just want to make sure that they listened when they were going through the training," said John in a bored voice that accompanied a shrug of his shoulders. "Besides, Major Lorne will be around here for a while after his accident in the Jumper Bay. He can keep an eye on things while I'm gone."

She could now hear the underlying tension in his voice. 'I want to make sure that they live when I let them go out without me,' was how she translated his words in her head. In the past, it usually wasn't his own team's missions that Colonel Sheppard worried about the most. It was the teams that he couldn't watch over that gave him the nightmares.

"You all picked good people, Colonel. I'm sure they'll do just fine," she smiled. "And I'm sure Major Lorne can handle whatever military matters that may come up on our end."

He nodded his head and she tried to stifle a snort, as his undomesticated hair didn't budge. Just how did he get his hair to do that so that it stayed in place all day without falling flat?

John raised his eyebrow again at her snort. "What?"

"Nothing. Keep us updated while you're out there."

"Not a problem."

Elizabeth didn't return to her paperwork when Sheppard leapt to his feet and did his patented 'cocky pilot' walk out of her office and down to the main floor that housed the stargate. She moved to the catwalk in front of her office and frowned a moment when she noticed that John's right hand stayed on his holstered gun all the way.

The longer their stay here in Atlantis, the more wary John Sheppard seemed to become. Even with his positive attitude, he seemed to be ready for almost anything at all times. Even when he was 'home' and off duty.

She looked down at her own clenched white knuckled fist on the railing and she revised her thought.

They had all become a little more wary and high strung since meeting the Wraith and the Genii.

-------

It didn't take long after John left her office for the four teams to assemble near the gate with their equipment. Dr. Weir watched from above as John went to all the new people to make sure that they were ready.

The Lt. Colonel seemed almost like a mother who was sending her children to their first day of school as he checked straps, weapons and supplies. With eleven new soldiers, one field medic and three new scientists for whom he was responsible, John was making sure that everyone was taking what they needed for at least a three-day stay on the alien planet.

Just in case . . .

The new people, including the scientists that Rodney had helped select, seemed excited and eager as John pointed his finger at them and gave them his speech about listening to the veterans and about not straying far from their teams.

Many of the soldiers nodded. Most were not new to combat—many had served in campaigns on Earth and they knew a little of what they would be facing when they went through the stargate and into hostile territory.

They finally moved out with John's teammates Ronon Dex and Teyla in the lead, the new teams in the middle, and John and Rodney bringing up the rear.

John took a moment to raise a hand to Weir just before he stepped through the blue ripples of the gate and onto P3M-390.

She didn't have time to wave as his form disappeared into the light.

-------

Dr. Rodney McKay had conflicted feelings about being on P3M-390. While he was glad, even happy, about being on the mission since it took him away from being stuck overseeing the teaching projects of his latest people, he wasn't pleased it was to such an unexciting place.

He opened his mouth to complain to the Colonel, but realized that the Colonel was off with some of his new soldiers setting up a sketchy security perimeter.

"Playing soldier," muttered Rodney under his breath as he watched Sheppard, with small gestures and calm words, cautiously position his soldiers.

Rodney finally turned away and huffed. Really, his brilliance would be more beneficial to Atlantis if he could be looking for Ancient technology, instead of looking at the properties of the native water and rocks of a planet that seemed to be at the dawn of its existence.

In the end, Rodney had only agreed to come when Sheppard pointed out that the scientists were part of his responsibility. Well, that and the seemingly contagious excitement that poured off the Colonel whenever he talked about the mission.

Therefore, Dr. Rodney McKay sat on a rock and watched the new scientists as they took samples and as they murmured to each other in low voices.

He could pick out Dr. Jeromy Grant and Dr. Katy Mawyer as they scanned their prized samples and comparing data. Dr. Henry White was carefully taking their sealed samples and placing them cautiously in a shockproof metal case.

"Dr. McKay! I believe we may find single-cell organisms here. Much like what would have been found on Earth almost four billion years ago!" rang out the high and eager voice of Dr. Grant from nearby.

The new man's eyes were shining in the hot sun of the bleak planet.

Rodney shifted to see the radiant face of Dr. Grant. "Oh, gooood," he replied in a singsong voice. "How wonderful for you."

Grant didn't seem to notice the mocking tone as he went back to work.

McKay looked around for his teammates. He really wanted to find someone he could complain to about the misplaced glee of the new people. He looked for Ronon, only to see him joining the Colonel in his guard duty on higher ground. Both were talking to the soldiers now as the Colonel swept his out stretched arm around the area and as he pointed toward the guarded stargate. A few of the soldiers nodded in agreement with whatever he said. Ronon just stood with arms folded and with a faint scowl on his features.

Rodney turned his head toward the gate and saw that Teyla was on guard duty with one of the soldiers from the newly designated Team 11. Rodney turned his body so that he could better make out Teyla. He saw that she was also talking as the new guy pointed to the rocks and the other Atlantis personnel.

Rodney gave a mental sigh. He wondered if all the questions from the new soldiers were making his teammates feel as old as he did when the scientists asked him rookie questions.

Go to Pegasus, see the galaxy, and then age ten years in one when you think your life is about to get sucked out by a creepy energy stealing vampire.

All the new people seemed excited to be in Atlantis, to be in this galaxy. Even after reading the old reports. It didn't help that a scene from The Lost World kept running through McKay's head. He whispered Dr. Ian Malcolm's words as they replayed in his head once again, "Oh, yeah . . . _ooooh_ . . . _ahhhh_ . . . that's how it always starts. But then later there's running and . . . _screaming_."

Just wait until the new people saw their first Wraith, up close and personal. Bad breath and all.

There would definitely be some running and screaming.

Rodney rolled his eyes at his slightly morbid thought, as he continued looking at Sheppard and his men. As he watched, Sheppard crept closer to the edge of the high rocks, to watch as the scientists dipped sample jars into the greenish waters. He suddenly turned to Ronon and said something. The big man nodded and moved away.

From his pensive look, Rodney could tell that the Colonel was uneasy. He snorted. Really, the man acted as if the new members of Atlantis were five years old and that they needed to have their hands held. Sure, they were new, but they had all survived the training, and the hovering of a certain military CO.

Ronon suddenly jumped down from the rocks above, and he strode over to the edge of the water. His thick rolls of hair swung slightly in the soft breeze, as did the trailing edge of his long coat. It didn't escape Rodney's attention that the former Runner came to within jumping distance of the busy scientists.

Rodney rolled his eyes again and he started rummaging in the pockets of his vest. He made a pleased noise when he found what he was looking for. In no time, Rodney was intent upon hungrily munching his strawberries and cream PowerBar.

That's when everything seemed to go to hell in a hand basket.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Beta: J.A.B.

A/N1: Thank the beta! Y'all should have seen the editing marks I got on this chapter. It's taken most of the evening to fix the mess I made! Thanks, J.A.B.!

A/N2: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.

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"Son of a _bitch_!" Sheppard's stunned words came over the headsets just seconds after the echoes of a gunshot rang out over the smooth boulders and tranquil waters of P3M-390.

The rest of John's veteran team looked up to the watch post where the Colonel had been keeping guard—to see his lean figure gone.

"Sheppard!" called Ronon Dex in his stilted voice. Although he was the most recent member of Sheppard's team, he already had proven himself loyal and good in any fight.

His hair swung back and forth, as he crouched and pulled his alien handgun. Without looking, Ronon switched the energy weapon from 'stun' to 'kill.' Anyone who would be foolish enough to shoot the ranking military officer of Atlantis in front of his team and his people deserved to die . . . horribly.

Tapping his earpiece, Dr. Rodney McKay also tried to contact the missing man. "Colonel? Sheppard? What happened? Was that a gunshot?" From his hastily sprawled position behind a hefty boulder, the astrophysicist tried to see both his friend and the skyline, trying to see from which direction the shot had come. All Rodney could see was the rest of the Atlantis personnel that had accompanied them to the blue-green and grey-brown world.

The new scientists seemed to be petrified stiff and the new soldiers seemed to be pissed off. They all milled around momentarily until one of the new lieutenants, Hernandez, shouted out some high-pitched commands for the soldiers to provide cover for the civilians.

That galvanized Lieutenant Tuck into sending out three of his team to search the rocks for whatever weapon toting, scum-sucking aliens they could find.

The final member of his team, the medic, Keith "Doc" Shay, had to be held back by his vest as he tried to scramble out to search of the Colonel. "No, Doc. Not yet."

"But—"

"Not now, Doc," said Tuck, cutting off Shay's words. "We don't know who's out there or how many."

Doc Shay could only hold on to his field equipment and wait with a frown on his face.

Sergeant Meeks, the team leader of the final group, had heeded Hernandez's commands and stuck close to the scientists. His civilian, Dr. Grant, popped up his head to stare over at Rodney's position. Meeks swiped an impatient hand at Grant and snarled, "Get down!"

The head disappeared hastily.

Rodney took the last bite of his PowerBar and chewed fretfully, his other hand practically glued to his headset. "Teyla, can you see him . . . them . . . whatever is out there? I thought this planet was supposed to be uninhabited!" said Rodney in a muffled voice, still chewing as he pushed the wrapper into his pocket and pulled his sidearm from his holster.

McKay gripped the gun hard and shook his head. He still didn't see a target or know what the hell was going on, so what the hell _was_ his target?

He really wanted to shoot at something.

Out of sight, the last member of Sheppard's team, Teyla, from her position beside the stargate, turned her head slowly as she scanned the rocks for enemies. "Apparently there is someone here, but I see nothing." She pulled her P-90 up higher and gradually raised her head up over the top of her cover.

The soldier that was on guard with her was crouched down, his dark eyes glaring at the rocks that were between him and the action. He raised his M249 SAW and seemed intent on finding a target to vent his sudden tension.

All was calm except for the placid lapping of the water against the brown rocks, and the low mutterings of the other three teams that came with Sheppard's team through the stargate.

Then there was the sound of fabric scrapping on a hard surface, and a grunt in their ears. The radio . . .

"Sheppard!" called Ronon again.

"Yeah . . . yeah," replied a breathless voice. "I'm okay. I'm at the bottom of the watch post. I fell off . . . the damn rocks."

"We heard what sounded like a gunshot just before you fell. Are you injured?" asked Teyla in her strangely composed and soothing voice that she used on the children of her village after Wraith nightmares. She turned her face to the watch post rocks with an intent stare. "I—we will come to you."

"No!" There was gasping. "Get under cover and stay put. Take a head count . . . and make sure the new people stay together and down."

Ronon looked toward Teyla's cover with a wide toothy grin that communicated itself over the radio. "This one of those times that we can ignore his orders?"

Teyla also gave a small smile as she remembered their previous heated exchange in a far away forest on this very topic. "Yes," she said in a firm voice. "This is one of those times."

Ronon wasted no time slinking from his cover into the twisting path of rocks and boulders to find Sheppard.

That left Teyla and Rodney trying to get a roll call of the other Atlantis personnel to make sure no one else was hurt or missing while at the same time trying to keep everyone behind the protection of the rocks.

-------

When Ronon Dex finally stepped out from the shelter of the boulders and into Sheppard's personal space, Sheppard jerked around with a wheeze and raised his P-90 into firing position.

Ronon didn't speak or lower his own gun. He just waited for Sheppard to realize who he was and lower the P-90.

Sheppard did indeed recognize him, but the P-90 stayed up in a defensive position, his pain-intense hazel eyes searching Ronon's face.

"Ronon, I thought I said _stay_ under cover."

Ronon was mildly surprised when Sheppard didn't lower his P-90. Shrugging his large shoulders, the former Runner went down into a crouch, his gun still at the ready but pointed away from his team leader. "This _is_ cover."

Sheppard snorted, but still studied Ronon with a calculating look, a small line between his eyebrows.

"You want me to look at that?" asked Dex as he nodded to the blood soaking the black material of Sheppard's short sleeved t-shirt and vest.

Sheppard jerked out of his concentrated study of Ronon at the question. The Colonel looked down at the bloody mess and blinked slowly. "Huh," was all he had to say.

"Ronon, did you find him?" asked Teyla's concerned voice over their radios.

The big man put a hand to his radio as he kept his eyes on the bloody t-shirt of Sheppard. "Yes. I think he's in shock. He seems . . . slow."

"I'm not in shock and I'm not slow," muttered John in irritation as he tried to sit up straight against the rocks. His breathing became forced and sweat appeared on his forehead as he tried to keep from closing his eyes against the pain.

"You're bleeding," replied the matter of fact voice of Ronan as he watched all the color drain out of Sheppard's face, leaving him the color of the clouds in the alien sky.

"Why, _yes_. I _am_ bleeding. Not in shock though. I've been in shock before and this ain't it."

"You will be if you keep bleeding like that."

John Sheppard looked over his newest team member again and then lowered his P-90. "Okay, okay." He tried to shift again and had to give in to the urge to close his eyes so the whirling in his head would stop.

He did not want to throw up right now.

Ronon holstered his gun and crawled closer. "Here," he said as he gripped the Colonel's upper arms and pulled him higher up against the rocks.

He stopped when Sheppard's right hand came up with a steely grip to clutch Ronon's left elbow painfully.

"_Not_ . . . so fast. I think I . . . also broke a few ribs in the fall."

Ronon just grunted in response, as he made sure the Colonel was steady against the rocks and then started his field exam. After the vest and black shirt were pulled away, the injury looked horrible at first blush. Including the main injury and the surrounding damage, the wound appeared to be as big as Ronon's fist and still bleeding.

Not good.

"9 mil," whispered Sheppard hoarsely as Ronon dug through the Colonel's vest pockets to find bandages to stop the bleeding. "It was a 9 mil."

Ronon suddenly understood why Sheppard had allowed him to come closer after studying him for so long. Ronon wasn't carrying any Earth weapons on this outing, just his energy blaster, sword and his assortment of knives.

"Someone from the other teams shot you?" the big man asked in a casual voice while holding back his anger. It was the anger that had kept him alive the seven years he spent as a Wraith hunted Runner. Sometimes it was hard to control his anger around these new allies. As Teyla once told him, some of these new friends would not understand it—or some of his past actions.

Sheppard hesitated for a moment, allowing his wound to be tended before answering. "Yeah."

The rest of the time was spent in silence as Ronon finished the bandaging and Sheppard kept his stare pointed in the direction of the positions of the other teams.

-------

Teyla and Rodney stayed behind cover as they searched for the unseen enemy that shot down Sheppard.

From McKay's position near the panicked scientists, he tried to see Teyla. "Do you see anything? Wraith? Genii? Someone else we've managed to tick off in . . . oh, say, the last few minutes?"

"I see no one but our own people." She paused, considering the sound of the attack. "It did not sound like a Wraith weapon. It is possible that it was Genii." Teyla was unsettled at the thought of the Genii tracking their off world movements again.

"G-Genii," stuttered McKay as he curled in tighter to his nice rock. No matter how long it had been since the Genii had tried to take over Atlantis and had then confronted them on Dagan, the scientist still had nightmares about the fanatical group.

And a bloody knife.

"I-I don't think the Genii are here. Why would they be here? This place has nothing going for it. No power, no weapons, no supplies," insisted Rodney. "Has to be someone else."

Teyla was certain Rodney was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to persuade her.

It was frustrating for Rodney and Teyla to look for a potential enemy and only see heaps and mounds of rocks of every size. The copious amount of cover was ideal for a killer to stalk his prey. They knew that Ronon had found John and was tending to him, but they still felt the danger in the air. Hopefully, the presence of Ronon would be enough to protect their friend until the threat was over.

They both jumped slightly when Ronon called them over their radios. "Sheppard says it was an Earth handgun."

"A what?" asked Rodney impatiently as he twisted around to look toward the stargate, trying to draw support from Teyla over the distance. "What are you blathering about?"

At the gate, Teyla's eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. "He was harmed with a weapon of his own people?" That was why the sound was familiar to her as the shot rang out.

She had a marked preference for the P-90, but did know how to shoot her 9 mil. The Colonel and his military contingent made sure of that when she first joined them in their cause.

This was a bitter betrayal. Something like this was loathsome to Teyla's sensibilities as a leader of her own people—a people whose very lives depended on the support of others.

On trust.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no. It can't be," muttered Rodney crossly over the open radio. His face went from confusion to uncertainty to fury as he clutched his own handgun until his knuckles went white. "Is he sure?" he finally asked in a weak voice.

There was a moment of silence and then Ronon's voice replied, "He's sure."

Suddenly, every member of the new teams became the enemy.

-------

Ronon didn't offer to help Sheppard up from the ground. He could tell that the wound and the broken ribs were going to keep the man from moving around in his usual fluid manner.

"Call . . . the medic," hissed Sheppard as he tried to shift his P-90 into firing position. He felt as if he were naked while he was down and bleeding. Bleeding badly—and John knew he was in trouble. This wasn't something he could walk or sleep off.

Ronon thought about the man with Lieutenant Tuck's team. Since arriving at Atlantis and working with Dr. Beckett, the medic seemed to feel every injury he helped treat. It made Shay a good field medic but Ronon could remember Beckett warning the man to be careful about burning himself out.

"Doc?"

"That's . . . what they call him," answered Sheppard with a grunt.

Ronon considered the request, but he was reluctant since his instincts were still telling him there was a threat lurking in the shadows. It was his responsibility to keep Sheppard alive now that he had found him.

"Call . . . him. He doesn't like to carry," said Sheppard with his eyes hooded in pain. "Have him give his stuff to Tuck . . . search him if you want when . . . he gets here. It'll be okay."

Like Beckett, the medic was against causing harm to others, and both men were hesitant to use a gun—unless the situation was dire and the lives of their friends depended on it.

Ronon didn't like allowing anyone approach their location, but knew he couldn't keep Sheppard under cover for much longer. He had bound the gunshot wound, but it was still bleeding. It wouldn't be long before the man who had offered Ronon a place to stay and a job would be past any medical help.

The big man sighed and keyed his radio.

-------

Lieutenant Hernandez had been uneasy since he overheard the comment over his headset that one of their own weapons took down their CO.

He crept out of his spot to get closer to the watch post where Sheppard had fallen. Hernandez's dark eyes searched the rocks, both for enemies and friends. The only ones he could be sure of right at this moment were his own men who had came to Atlantis with him.

They were a good group of guys.

He knew if it weren't for them and his sergeant, he would have been dead a long time ago on Earth.

"Mac!" he called into his radio. "Anything?"

His sergeant shook his head from his position beside the scientists. "Not a thing. I got Meeks and his team over here with us."

"Good, good." Hernandez crawled over a rock and let it protect his exposed back for a moment. "I'm going to try to make it over to the Colonel."

"Lieutenant, I don't think that's a good idea. I heard what was said. They're not going to be in the mood to be entertaining visitors at the moment," replied Mac with an edge to his voice. He didn't want his Lieutenant shot down by a trigger-happy alien or their wounded Colonel.

Their discussion was interrupted when Ronon's voice called for the field medic and gave the man curt instructions to leave behind his gun and military issue knife.

Hernandez turned his head to see Lieutenant Tuck's medic almost immediately come from behind cover and scramble toward Sheppard and Ronon.

The lieutenant had to give it to the medic. It took a lot of guts to jump up when you had a possible enemy in your camp that was willing to use deadly force.

-------

Doc skidded around the rocks to crash head on against a large roadblock of flesh. He almost bounced like a rubber ball until a large hand grabbed his arm.

He was very thoroughly searched for weapons by the former Runner before he got a reluctant nod from the big, scary man.

"He's over here," said Ronon a deep rumbling voice as he motioned toward the Colonel on the ground.

Doc nodded slightly and tried to slow his rapid heartbeat as Ronon permitted him to approach Sheppard. The medic went down on his knees as he saw the bloody bandage and the grimace of pain on the wounded man's face.

Now, Doc was in his element and felt more secure. He quickly put the glowering Ronon Dex out of his mind and went to work.

"Hi, Doc . . . got a GSW with a couple of . . . broken ribs for your first time out," whispered the Colonel as he felt the soft touch of the medic's hand on his shoulder.

"Hello, Colonel," returned the medic with a small smile. "I heard you're bleeding all over the place over here and I just had to drop in."

The medic shifted and then snapped on his medical gloves.

Sheppard closed his eyes as Doc's hands pushed aside the vest and went to the hem of his bloody t-shirt. Tingles of hot pain flushed over him and he took a deep breath to keep the darkness away.

John didn't want to faint—pass out—while someone was out there gunning for him.

"Well, at least it's not spurting," soothed Doc with false cheer.

John made a weak sound of agreement and tried to keep breathing, taking shallow breaths.

After a brief look at the field dressing soaked with dark blood, Doc pulled out extra bandages from his kit. "I'm going to have you lay down, Colonel. I can't stop the bleeding with you sitting up like this."

John glanced up to look directly into the soft blue eyes of the field medic. He remembered picking this man out at the SGC. It had been one of the few times John had left his conference room and sought out help to make a decision. Sheppard had gone straight to Beckett to ask what the doctor thought about the medic's record, training and adamant dislike of guns.

"Whatever you think, Doc," Sheppard whispered, his tongue trying its best to stick to the top of his dry mouth.

The medic helped him slide down the rock and lay flat on the sandy ground. He turned to ask for something to put under the Colonel's legs when Ronon shoved his long leather coat in his direction.

Nodding, Doc rolled the coat up and used it.

"Now, this might hurt a bit, Colonel."

Sheppard looked up into the soft blue eyes again and nodded. "Okay," he said quietly. He knew what was coming and tried to brace for it.

Doc opened a sterile bandage and placed it on top of the soaked ones that were in contact with the wound. Then he pressed down with both hands, trying to use direct pressure to slow the blood flow.

John hissed. Between the new pain in the wound and the sharp pain from his ribs, he was having a difficult time getting air into his lungs. His vision started to go red and then black. "Can't . . . breathe."

Doc slapped on more bandages and kept pressing, and as the Colonel's eyes drifted shut and his head lolled to the side, he managed to murmur, "Doc . . . I'm not . . . feeling the love—"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Spoilers: Suspicion, Trinity and Critical Mass, maybe others

Beta: J.A.B.

A/N: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.

-------

"Not good, not good, not good," muttered McKay as he tried to twist his body into a pretzel looking at all the new soldiers and scientists at the same time. Now was when he wished he had his old teacher, Mrs. Drusky's, much cursed all knowing eyes in the back of her head.

As disgusting as that sounded.

Rodney hadn't carried a P-90 on this trip and he was beginning to regret his decision. At any other time, he would have been shocked by his impulsive desire for personal firepower, but right now, he just felt vulnerable. Being vulnerable was something he had felt too often in his personal and professional life up to this point.

McKay glanced at his 9 mil which, at the moment, looked pitifully small.

Rodney tried to stay behind his cover as his left hand did its little dance of stress. He kept rubbing his thumb against the side of his index finger. For him, it was an automatic and habitual motion that soothed his nerves—as a release valve for his anxiety.

"Ronon? How's Sheppard doing?" he asked with a touch of apprehension.

Part of Rodney's difficulty with this whole situation was that he had no information about Sheppard's condition or about who the shooter was. Rodney was a man who required information, even if it was information he didn't like.

"He is . . . unconscious," replied Ronon tightly, as if he was clenching his teeth.

"Teyla?" Rodney called out urgently, not knowing if he should stay put or attempt to move closer to Sheppard's position.

At the gate, Teyla's shock had turned into a purposeful anger at the news of Sheppard's status. "We must contain these new teams until we get back to Atlantis. Then we will find out who has done this . . . despicable thing."

Rodney felt a chill at Teyla's hard tone of voice. The rancor—the eagerness for revenge—seemed at odds with the serene mental image he had of her. "Sure, sure. Contain the new people. Just how do we do that? In case you hadn't noticed, there's a lot more of them than there are of us."

Without answering McKay, Teyla stood unexpectedly, her P-90 ready to fire if necessary, with her eyes blazing in the alien sunlight. "Lieutenant Hernandez, Lieutenant Tuck and Sergeant Meeks . . . have your people disarm themselves at once."

There was a short-lived silence and then a lot of uneasy babble over the radios.

"Silence! You will disarm or I will send to Atlantis for support! I promise it will not be a pleasant experience if we are forced to wait," responded Teyla in a scathing tone of voice.

The three new team leaders reluctantly recalled their people and had them pile their weapons in a small heap by the scientific equipment.

Hesitating for just a moment, Hernandez then ordered them all to raise their hands to show they were no longer armed. He didn't want any misunderstandings turning this into a bloodbath. Especially if it involved his own and his friends' blood.

When the soldier by Teyla's side tried to move forward, she put out a hand to stop him. "No, do not lay down your weapon. You were in my sight the whole time and I will have need of your support." She tried to use a reassuring tone with the young man. "I want you to help us guard until we can get everyone back to the security of Atlantis."

The young man named Reshad Ellmore smiled hesitantly at the warrior woman with the fierce eyes. He then hefted his SAW into a more comfortable position, with its weight resting on the wide strap over his shoulder. "Yes, Ma'am," replied Ellmore as he moved cautiously closer to the prisoners.

"Dr. McKay, I am dialing Atlantis. Make sure you watch them _all_ carefully," said Teyla as she moved to the D.H.D. without her usual grace. She may trust Ellmore a little more than the others, but she still wanted to be cautious until they had more information. "I will see that the Colonel is sent through the gate first while we guard him against this traitor."

"Sure, yeah, I'll do that," was the dry reply she received from the astrophysicist. "Believe me."

-------

"Colonel? Colonel," called Doc Shay with a calm undertone to his voice as he started an I.V. and rechecked the man's vitals.

Sheppard's bleeding may have slowed greatly due to the direct pressure, but his heartbeat was still fast as his body tried to compensate for the initial blood loss.

"What's wrong?" grated out Ronon from nearby.

"He needs Beckett and soon," the medic said as the big man once again crouched down to hover at the Colonel's side. "He's going into shock and I'm really not liking his vitals."

As if in response to the medic's comments, Sheppard's wheezing quickened as his lungs tried to boost oxygen levels due to his racing heart.

"Damn! He needs Beckett—now! Shooter or no shooter."

As Ronon touched his radio to tell Teyla and McKay, they could both hear the stargate whoosh open.

-------

It took only a short, and shocking, call to Atlantis to have Beckett and his team waiting by the gate for Sheppard and Shay, and for a compliment of soldiers sent by Major Lorne to take charge of the prisoners.

Even though it was Ronon's first impulse to stay by his leader while Sheppard was unable to protect himself, the Runner knew he was needed by McKay and Teyla to watch the prisoners.

To prevent any further bloodshed.

For now.

Ronon held out his blaster steadily at shoulder height as the unarmed personnel materialized from the stargate and into the chaos and high emotion of Atlantis.

Ronon let his hard gaze and the business end of his weapon quell any objections as the soldiers plodded by him and into the waiting arms of the guards. The suspects were prodded unceremoniously out of sight to whatever accommodations the Major had arranged for them.

The scientists were quiet as they passed under the simmering glare of the former Runner.

Dr. White put his hand on Dr. Mawyer's elbow to steady her as she weaved slightly at the sight of the armed soldiers and hostile stares.

Dr. Grant was close behind them, his hands nervously rubbing at his jacket leaving sweat stains on the blue panels.

The guards took them as well, with little protest from the prisoners, just a slight sniffle from Dr. Mawyer as she tried to hold back her panic-stricken tears.

Rodney came through the gate next, his face in a grimace that pulled the left corner of his mouth downward. In the absence of Sheppard, McKay turned his head to seek out Weir's steadying presence.

"Rodney? What happened?" called out Weir as she turned from her view from her office catwalk and quickly came down to the gate level to stand close to the visibly distressed scientist.

McKay felt almost too drained to speak and took a moment to holster his gun and to gather his thoughts.

As he struggled with an answer for Elizabeth, Teyla and Ellmore exited the stargate. Teyla nodded to the gate tech to indicate that all were back from the off world mission.

With a whoosh the stargate wormhole was cut, throwing the room into an abrupt and stunned silence.

Rodney shifted his eyes to see Ellmore voluntarily giving up his SAW to the last of the guards and leaving with them without comment or protest.

McKay glanced back at Elizabeth and shook his head. "I don't know. One minute my people were gleefully taking samples of the local water, and the next, someone was shooting Sheppard." He was absurdly proud that his voice didn't crack as Teyla and Ronon drew closer to the conversation.

Dr. Weir nodded to Teyla and Ronon as all three turned at the same time to walk to the infirmary to check on the Colonel's condition.

"Teyla? Ronon? Did you see anything?" Weir's hands clenched as she asked the question and she tried to relax them by putting them behind her back.

Teyla's lips tightened and she still carried her P-90 in the ready position. "The Colonel was shot in our very midst and I saw nothing. Nothing at all." It was clear she was not pleased. What wasn't clear was what she blamed more, her failure as a teammate to protect her friend or the action of the unidentified traitor.

In an awkward attempt at comfort, Rodney tilted his head toward her, but he didn't try to touch her tightly flexed arm. It was as if she was still ready to attack or be attacked. "No one was expecting this . . . could have predicted this. Not even Sheppard. Nothing we did or didn't do caused this."

She didn't reply, only continued to stride toward the infirmary at a clip that forced her companions to walk a little faster to keep up.

Ronon was almost as morose as Teyla. He was a former soldier who had some experience with duplicity during his military service on his former home world of Sateda. "I was near the civilians when it happened. Sheppard wanted me to guard them. All I saw was them diving behind cover after the shot," he snarled.

Rodney didn't even attempt to ease Ronon's mind. It didn't look like the big man would appreciate it right now.

-------

They were almost at the infirmary door when the clump-clack of crutches caught their attention.

Major Lorne was coming as fast as he could and was surprisingly good at keeping his balance as his slightly bent left leg counter swung to his hurried movements. Even with all the gear he was wearing, including his holstered sidearm and his P-90 clipped to his vest, he was moving hastily.

"Major, really, you need to stay off of—"

"No, Ma'am. Not while the Colonel is down and there is an investigation to conduct," responded the second in command of Atlantis' military contingent. "I wanted to be in the gateroom when the prisoners came through, but this damn leg slowed me down."

Weir gave him an understanding wince. "Okay, Major. Here's what we know so far . . ."

-------

"Where did you send the prisoners?" asked Elizabeth wearily to break the strained silence as the four of them waited for Carson's report on Sheppard.

Time seemed to drag by and they had been quiet for a long while, letting their imaginations conjure up wild things about their friend's condition. They all needed a distraction.

Lorne shifted in his chair trying to ease the sharp twinge of his broken leg. "The Wraith holding cell."

"That's a little . . . excessive don't you think, Major. There are no cots, no privacy or facilities in that cell. Maybe one of the extra labs—"

"No, Ma'am. One of those people shot the Colonel. Until I know who did, they are all staying right where they are. I don't give a damn about their comfort level."

Elizabeth sighed, knowing that Lorne was right, but not liking it. It was a measure that would seem harsh to those that were innocent, but at the same time, she couldn't have some rogue assassin loose in the city.

"When are you starting the interrogations?" Weir asked. It was now a loaded word to use—interrogation. It reminded her of the line they had crossed recently, and that bit of humanity she had left behind trying to protect the city.

"As soon as I hear from the Doc how Sheppard is doing. I have to know if I'm investigating an attack or a murder."

That sent a chill down all of their backs and all eyes went to the closed off area where Beckett was fighting for their friend's life.

-------

Carson didn't come out to talk to them until what seemed like hours later. His face was pale and he was using an extra hand towel to wipe beads of water from his face.

Everyone but Lorne immediately stood, eager for any news.

"Well, the man is tough, I'll give him that. I've cleaned up his gun shot wound and made him as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. We won't know more until he recovers from the anesthesia, but he will have some discomfort when he wakes."

During the talk, McKay had been straining to see over Beckett's shoulder to catch a glimpse of his friend behind the screens. Until he heard the discomfort part. "What? Aren't you giving him the good stuff yet? I know from personal experience that you have a stock of some of the good stuff here, Carson."

The doctor smiled tiredly. "Aye, that I do, Rodney. Give the poor man a chance to wake up before you work yourself into a frenzy. Really, Rodney, there's no need to worry for the Colonel. He's being well taken care of."

"Good, I wouldn't want to send a message to General Landry at the SGC that he needs to replace the drug withholding quack the next time the Daedalus is in the neighborhood."

"Cheeky, Rodney. Just remember there will again come a time that you're here and in need of my quackery."

McKay closed his mouth with a click of his teeth.

Elizabeth snorted. "Can we just peek in, Carson? Just to see him?"

At the moment, they all needed a little reassurance that John Sheppard was still breathing.

Carson looked undecided for a moment until Rodney started bouncing on his toes. He nodded to Weir. "Just a wee peek and then the Colonel will need his peace and quiet."

He motioned with his right arm, indicating that the group should precede him behind the screened off area.

"And here he is," said Carson in his mild voice. "We'll be watching him for another hour or so until the anesthesia wears off. Just to make sure he doesn't have a bad reaction."

Rodney opened his mouth but Beckett stopped him with a glare, his arms crossing over his chest. "I'm sure he won't, given his medical history, but I'm not taking any chances at this stage."

They all gathered around the bed, careful of the monitors, tubes and machinery hooked to the Colonel's body.

Teyla leaned over the bed slightly, her P-90 clanking against the metal railing as she let go to let it swing on its clip. She softly recited one of her people's prayers for John's full recovery as she performed the accompanying graceful hand gestures over his sheet-covered chest.

Sheppard didn't move at either sound, his slack face turned slightly to the right, the oxygen tube shining dimly in the infirmary lighting.

Ronon stood stone faced at Teyla's side as she prayed. He still looked ready to physically tear someone limb from limb as he fingered his bone necklace. "What about his ribs?"

Beckett looked confused for a moment.

The ex-Runner's eyes shifted to bore into the doctor's. "Sheppard said he had broken ribs."

The doctor's expression cleared. "Oh, no, they were just bruised. At least that will be one thing he won't have to be dealing with when he awakens."

They were all trying to be quiet until Major Lorne's voice rang out. "Aren't you the medic that went out on Sheppard's mission today?" The suspicion was heavy in his voice as Lorne glared at Keith "Doc" Shay.

Doc Shay had been standing nearby, quietly helping one of the nurses. At the Major's voice, he turned and winced. "Yes, sir."

Weir was surprised to realize that they had all forgotten in the chaos that the medic had accompanied the Colonel and Dr. Beckett to the infirmary.

Lorne didn't waste any time in tapping his radio and calling for two of his men. "Sorry, but everyone from that mission is staying in the holding cell until this is sorted out."

Beckett looked about to object but Lorne held up his hand. "I know, Doc. I know he helped get Sheppard back here to you, but he was on that mission. I—no we, can't take any chances with this."

--------

After Beckett kicked them out of the infirmary so that Sheppard could have quiet, the small group started the slow walk back to Weir's office and they discussed what to do next.

"We need to examine the guns left behind on P3M-390 and we need someone we can trust to go get them," said Lorne as he clacked along Weir's right side.

She nodded. "To see if any were fired. If you do find the one that was fired, can you tell who the gun belonged to?"

Lorne wanted to nod, but all the crutch usage was making his shoulders and neck stiff. "We have a list of the weapons issued to each of the personnel. Shouldn't be a problem to locate the owner. If we find anything."

Teyla frowned. "You do not think we will find the weapon used?"

Lorne snorted. "Whoever it was would have to be stupid to use their own gun to shoot the ranking officer of Atlantis."

"Makes sense. I know I wouldn't," muttered Ronon.

When the others turned to glare at him, he just stared right back. "What?"

Weir cleared her throat and continued the conversation. "Who do you want to send to get our equipment, Major?"

Lorne stopped in the hallway, forcing the others to stop as well. He looked slightly uncomfortable. "You know I trust my soldiers, Dr. Weir, but I would really rather Teyla, Dr. McKay and Ronon go pick up the abandoned stuff."

"Oh, wait . . . why am I going back," asked Rodney in a high pitched whine. "Someone should be here in case, uh . . . you know . . . ," he stumbled feebly to a stop.

Elizabeth understood their need to stay near John, but they did need people they could absolutely trust on the investigation. "I'll be here, Rodney. And Carson will be here. John's in good hands right now and we need to start the investigation before this happens again."

Mollified, Rodney let his shoulders slump. "Fine, but I'm not staying there any longer than absolutely necessary. That place is just . . . creepy now."

Ronon grunted in agreement.

"Okay then, Major Lorne will give you what you need to pack the weapons and then you'll return to retrieve the evidence."

-------

Lieutenant Hernandez paced the holding cell, letting his eyes pass over the others in their various positions of sitting on the hard floor and standing near the doorway.

Mac, his sergeant, was resting against the weird, flat bars of the cell since the guards had deactivated the Ancient shield, and were playing cards with Cannel, Killip and Bitterman.

Some of the other caged soldiers and scientists were chatting up their jailors, trying to get a few pillows and some other amenities.

And Katy Mawyer really had to use the restroom, and she didn't want a male audience.

The five guards of the holding cell exchanged long-suffering looks.

-------

It seemed Teyla, Ronon and Rodney had barely stepped through the gate to P3M-390 before they were back carrying the cases of guns and the samples.

Lorne was waiting for them to escort the stuff to a newly cleared vacant lab that was to be the hub of his investigation.

Watching as the stuff was carted away, Rodney sat down on the sweeping steps of the gateroom, heaving a few gasping breaths. He used the back of his left hand to wipe the sweat of hard labor from his cheeks. "How many samples . . . did they need . . . from that stupid planet? I think I just threw out . . . my back," he huffed in exhaustion.

With a grimace of pain, McKay put a hand to the small of his back and tried to straighten.

He waved off Ronon and Teyla as they curiously looked in his direction. "Go on with Lorne. I think I'm going to go see Carson for this."

Teyla raised an eyebrow at his words. McKay had to be tired to try such an obvious plot to visit the Colonel against Dr. Beckett's orders.

"Very well, we will help the Major," said Teyla with a faint curving of her lips. It was the first smile her teammates had witnessed since the shooting. "Give the Colonel our regards if he is awake."

Ronon gave a toothy grin at McKay's mortified expression.

Then the two warriors turned and followed the clacking Lorne to the vacant lab.

Rodney jumped up from the steps and moved as quickly as he could to go check on Sheppard, momentarily forgetting about his bad back.

-------

McKay entered the infirmary and noticed two things. One was that Sheppard was still sleeping and the other was that Carson Beckett was standing in the middle of the room with a pillowcase in one hand and a grenade in the other.

TBC . . .


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Spoilers: Suspicion, Trinity and Critical Mass, maybe others

Beta: J.A.B. - with her help, I made my page quota! You rock, J.A.B.

A/N: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.

A/N2: I'm using my author profile as a place to give story progress reports. Just FYI.

-------

Reminder as to where we left off:

McKay entered the infirmary and noticed two things. One was that Sheppard was still sleeping and the other was that Carson Beckett was standing in the middle of the room with a pillowcase in one hand and a grenade in the other.

-------

Dr. Carson Beckett looked sweaty and slightly ill as he stood in the middle of his medical domain.

"Carson!" Rodney hissed in a loud stage whisper.

"What in the bloody hell are you whispering about?" demanded Dr. Carson Beckett in a high voice as he balanced a grenade in one hand and an empty pillowcase in the other.

McKay noticed that Carson was clutching both objects the same way, as if the pillowcase was just as much a danger to him as the explosive device.

"How did that get here?" asked Rodney as he put his shaky hands to his damp forehead, his fingers splayed in anxiety as he clutched his skull.

"How the devil am I to know? Just tell me what to do with it!" Carson's accented voice was still elevated as he kept as still as possible, never taking his eyes from his prizes.

"I don't know!" Rodney took a hesitant step forward, and then danced right back. "Is it active?"

"I don't—"

"—know. Right, right." Rodney looked baffled and then brought his hands down with a sharp clap.

Beckett jumped, and struggled not to put a hand over his thundering heart. "Good God, Rodney! Are you trying to finish my heart attack?"

McKay wasn't listening. He was snapping his fingers in a rapid motion. "A balcony."

"Two halls away!"

"Window?"

"More!"

Rodney paused for a moment and just looked exasperated. "Carson, if you're not going to cooperate—"

Then more finger snapping from Rodney as he looked around. "One of your sample cases!"

"What? Are you bloody insane? That won't stop an explosion—"

"No, no, no, it'll work. It can't be active; or you'd be little Beckett bits by now." Rodney turned around in a quick circle like a dog chasing its tail. "Where do you keep them?"

Carson tried to speak and had to clear the large, dry lump from his throat. "Over there." He wanted to point, but he was still afraid to move his hands.

McKay almost tiptoed over to the empty sample cases. He was tentative about returning to Carson, taking small steps and holding up his left hand as if to shield his face.

"Rodney, I don't think your hand is going to help if this thing bloody well goes off!"

Rodney made a face and put the case down by Carson's feet. "I know, I know. I can't help it." The scientist unlatched the silver case and opened it to reveal its foam interior. "Now, just put it down."

"I don't think this will work," swallowed Carson as he started to bend his knees like an old man.

"It will work," insisted Rodney trying not to make his usual hurry-up motions with his hands. "Any time . . . now would be good!"

Things went well until Carson tried to let go of the grenade.

"What's the hold up? Come on, Carson!"

Carson's wide eyes lifted from the grenade to meet McKay's. "I can't let it go," he whispered in dismay.

"What?"

"My hand—I can't get it to let go." Carson turned to the pillowcase in the other hand and concentrated, sweat running down his face. "I can't let go of either one of them!"

"Okay, okay, okay. Let's just stay calm." Rodney put a hand over his mouth and studied Carson's tightly gripped hands. "Maybe if I just—"

Rodney warily reached out to pry at Beckett's fingers. He quickly became frustrated when the locked fingers wouldn't budge. "A little help here, Carson," snapped McKay in agitation.

Carson just made a strangling noise.

McKay bent in closer and started forcefully digging his fingers into the tendons in his friend's wrist. He tried once, twice and then really pushed firmly causing Carson to wheeze in pain.

And the grenade popped right out of Carson's hand and onto the floor with a clatter.

Both stood, dismayed, as it rolled to a stop a few feet away near one of the vacant infirmary beds.

"Rodney," whimpered Carson in a weak voice.

McKay turned his look from the grenade to Carson—and noticed that Carson was holding a small pin.

A grenade pin.

Seconds seemed to stretch out into minutes, but at the same time, Rodney knew time was running out. Fast . . .

The scientist leaped for the grenade while chanting, "Get it out, gotta get it out!"

Rodney turned as his hand closed over the deadly object, and turned to throw it at the doorway like a baseball player trying to catch the winning runner at home plate, in the bottom of the ninth inning.

Only to be blocked by a figure on crutches. "Hey, Doc, I was wondering if—"

"Get out of the way!" shouted McKay. He pitched the grenade and hoped the visitor could take care of himself.

Both Carson and Rodney hit the floor with bone rattling thuds, Rodney grunting as his back reminded him of his recent abuse in retrieving the equipment from the rock and water planet.

Major Lorne had only to take one look at what was in Rodney's hand, before he threw himself and his crutches to the floor. He skidded across the slick floor to the wall, his P-90 digging into his chest with a clink against his vest's zipper. Lorne just had time to cover his head as an explosion shook the empty hallway behind him.

At least, Lorne hoped like hell no one was out there.

An alarm started not long after, faintly sounding in the battered ears of Lorne, McKay and Beckett.

Stunned, all three men stayed as still as possible as items fell off the shelves of the infirmary. Extra stuff being stored in the hallway became airborne confetti. Bits of paper gowns and toilet paper floated down to cover the floor like a pristine, multicolor snow.

After the confetti and dust had settled, the Major rolled onto his side, clutched his broken left leg, and groaned in pain. "McKay, what the hell was that!"

"Yes, um, that was a grenade," replied the scientist as he shakily regained his feet, his left hand on the small of his back. He tried to help Carson up, but the doctor was still too shaken to stand.

Their ever-present radios began to chatter with rapid-fire questions, the voices faint and tinny.

"I know that! Where did it come from? And why the hell didn't you radio someone? You were just standing around holding a live grenade. Damn it!" Lorne pried one hand away from his leg to touch his radio. "This is Lorne in the infirmary. We need some help here."

Then he returned his hands to his leg, a grimace on his square face.

"I wasn't just holding it! I had a plan, but Carson distracted me with all his high pitched girly squealing." The white face of the scientist blushed slightly. "I, uh, didn't think of the radio. Huh. Carson, why didn't you remind me?"

Carson just rolled his eyes and shakily crawled over to Lorne. He helped the soldier ease into a sitting position with his back to the wall, and his throbbing leg straight in front. Lorne's hands never left the leg as he moved, his left leg bitching the whole time.

"What the hell happened, Doc?"

Carson took a moment to collect himself as he ran his hands through his hair. "I was coming to check on the Colonel when I noticed the pillowcase on the floor." The hands moved from his hair to prod gently at the Major's leg, checking for new damage and pushing the P-90 out of the way. "I didn't think much of it . . . thought someone had dropped it on the way from the shelves."

The doctor gestured to the slightly askew silver racks that held the linens for the beds, as Lorne groaned in pain and shoved Carson's questing hands away from his leg.

"I picked it up a-and out rolled the device. Right next to the Colonel."

The three men turned to look at Sheppard in his bed, still sleeping. The Colonel's face was turned slightly away from the infirmary door, so all they could see was the long line of his neck and his ear.

"Huh, he would still be sleeping," griped McKay. "We're risking life and limb here and he's living it up in la-la land."

Carson heaved himself up from the floor and retrieved Lorne's crutches. "Up you go, Major. I'll be better able to see if you've damaged yourself if you're on one of the beds. And please take off your weapons."

"I'm fine, Doc," protested Lorne as Beckett took his right arm and pulled. "Did you see anyone? Before you saw the pillowcase?"

Carson shook his head as he helped the Major sit on the bed, and then he laid down the crutches. "Not a soul. I was updating some of the off world team charts and having a taste of coffee to keep myself from falling asleep in the middle of it."

McKay snorted. "Well, you're awake now."

"Aye, that I am," responded the doctor with a wobbly smile as he gathered himself to examine Lorne's leg. "Now, Major, let's get all this equipment off and have a peek."

Lorne heaved a sigh and began unzipping and unclipping.

-------

It didn't take long for Lorne to be faced with worried and angry faces.

Dr. Weir was leaning toward being concerned over the incident, but now that she could see that they were all okay, she was starting to get her dander up.

"McKay, what have you done now?" asked Weir sternly as she eyed the pile of debris in the hall and the infirmary.

"Me? Me! I've just blown up some paper products sitting in the hallway—which I might add—is a big no-no. It's a fire and safety hazard."

"But—"

"But? I kill a few paper gowns and some toilet paper and this is the thanks I get? Hey, I saved Carson, the Colonel and the Major," McKay huffed in disgust. "You blow up one small solar system and suddenly every explosion is your fault," he muttered to himself.

"Do you know how long it's going to take to requisition more toilet paper? Or paper gowns? Do you?" asked Weir with a straight face.

Rodney just glared at her.

Ronon and Teyla, on the other hand, started off angry the moment they walked through the infirmary door.

"Where were the guards?" demanded Ronon, his form looming over the smaller Major as he lay on the infirmary bed with his leg propped up on a pillow.

Teyla just tilted her head and gave Lorne a look that reminded him of his mother when she was very disappointed in him. Her usually curved lips were in a flat line of barely suppressed fury.

It made Lorne glad that his sessions at stick fighting with the Athosian leader would not resume until his leg was completely healed. Maybe he could dig himself out of this hole with her before then. Maybe she wouldn't beat his ass over this . . . he hoped.

"All the suspects were locked up," the Major tried to defend himself. "The only one who wasn't locked up was Shay."

Ronon suddenly turned on his heel. "I'm going to see Shay. You coming?" he asked Teyla.

Teyla looked over at the sleeping Colonel, and then to the still sweating McKay.

"Yes, I think I will go with you. After the Major has called for a security team for the infirmary."

Ronon nodded and folded his arms across his wide chest. His hot gaze tried its best to burn a hole right through the Major's head.

Lorne sighed, tapped his radio, and requested the security team. "I'll also send a couple of my guys down with you to see Shay."

Ronon shook his head and left the infirmary with Lorne shouting after him to wait. Teyla was close behind him as the four-man team of Marines arrived for the security detail.

"Damn." Lorne touched his radio to contact the holding cell guards. "Heads up, guys. There was another attempt on the Colonel. Since Shay was the only one out of custody for any length of time, he's the prime suspect. Ronon Dex is coming down to talk to Shay now. Whatever you do, don't let anyone in or out of the holding cell."

Shay would need serious medical help if Dex were allowed to speak to him without the benefit of the bars.

A hesitant voice came back. "Uh, sir, we have a problem."

After the explanation, Lorne cursed as he thrashed around trying to get up from his bed and get his crutches.

-------

Lt. Hernandez was stunned when the big warrior named Ronon Dex almost burst into the cell room. His sergeant, McFeely, jumped to his feet and stood braced next to his team leader.

"Shay!"

Now it was Lt. Tuck's turn to jump up as the loud voice yelled at his medic. "What is going on?" he asked as he stepped up to Shay. Cash, Killip and Bitterman also came in closer to their teammate.

Dex paced back and forth in front of the flat bars, trying to figure out how to get in. "Your man there is the one trying to kill Sheppard."

Tuck gasped at the accusation. "Who? Keith? He couldn't—wouldn't hurt a fly."

The large warrior lunged at the bars and tried to grab at the medic through the gaps.

Tuck grabbed Shay by his jacket and pulled him out of reach.

"You're my meat," snarled Ronon at the medic as the two soldiers backed away from him. Ronon turned his head to look at the guards, his large hands still on the holding cell. "Open this thing. Now!"

The guards shifted uneasily. "Sir, we can't do that. Major Lorne—"

Ronon came away from the cell with a snarl that made all the guards quickly scuttle away.

-------

"Sir!"

"What!" snapped Lorne into his radio, as he tried to totter around to gather all of his equipment and get out of the infirmary.

The mic remained open and Lorne could hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, and the howls of something animalistic.

"Sir, it's Dex . . . he's gone crazy! He wanted the cell door opened and—urk!"

The voice was gone and there was a fair amount of choking over the channel.

"Dex! Dex, let go of my guard!" yelled Lorne. When there was no answer, he grew desperate. "Teyla! Are you with Dex?"

"Yes . . . I am attempting to help your guard. Ronon! He is turning blue!"

There were more sound of fighting and scraping over the open mic.

Then gasping.

"The guard has been released. It would be best if I had more help here."

Lorne muttered to himself about taking a long deserved vacation as he keyed his mic for another team to be sent to the holding cell.

-------

John Sheppard woke slowly.

The first thing to return was his hearing. He could hear the mutterings of people nearby, with a faint thread of anxiety mixed into their voices.

Then the feeling in his arms, legs and body hit and he felt the coarse sheets of the infirmary bed under his bare forearms.

He shifted slightly and breathed in deeply only to aggravate the wound in his side. The breath hissed out slowly as he remembered what happened.

The mission, the shooting, the pain—then darkness.

"Colonel?" Beckett's voice, concerned but also professional.

Sheppard could now smell the infirmary—rubbing alcohol, latex, washed linens, and the warm scent of the humming equipment.

There was also something he couldn't place. It smelt like dust, and as if something had been burning.

"Sir?" Lorne's voice, rigid and hopeful.

John opened his dry eyes to see Lorne, Beckett and four Marines on one side of his bed. McKay, Ronon, Teyla and Elizabeth were on the other.

"What the hell," Sheppard croaked as he tried not to shrink back at the sight of everyone staring at him—and standing so close. His eyes crossed briefly, before he blinked and focused on Lorne.

Lorne was beginning to wish he hadn't gotten out of bed that morning. He stalled a moment by resettling his crutches. "Sir, I'm glad you're awake."

"Almost wasn't," growled Ronon.

John turned his head slowly from Lorne to squint at the Satedan and wondered where the ex-Runner had gotten his rapidly forming black eye. "What?"

"Now, let's give him some time to gather himself," broke in Beckett. "He's going to be a little groggy after all he's been through."

Sheppard pushed that comment away by raising a weak hand as he worked up enough spit to talk. "What's going on?"

"We had a suspect for your shooting, Sir," responded Lorne, a soulful look on his face. "Shay was here with you in the infirmary, and after he was taken to the holding cell, the Doc here found a grenade—"

John choked a bit on his own spit. "Shay? Grenade?"

Lorne ignored the choking and plowed on, hoping just to get it over. "All the others were supposed to be in the holding cell. I told the guards that no one was to get out, for any reason—"

"Major," said Sheppard when he could speak again despite his abused vocal cords. "What has happened?"

"They were having bathroom breaks, Sir." Lorne looked miserable as he said it. "Damn bathroom breaks. Not only did Shay have access, but McFeely, Mawyer, Grant, Bitterman, White and Ellmore."

Sheppard's dark hazel eyes blinked at the Major. "And the guards were . . . where?"

TBC

Hey, not much of a cliffhanger this time. Sorry!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Spoilers: Suspicion, Trinity and Critical Mass, maybe others.

Beta: J.A.B. – but any remaining mistakes are my own.

A/N: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.

-------

John wouldn't say he was depressed, but he was as restless and impatient as he could be with a hole in his side.

Lorne and his teammates had left the infirmary to do more investigating into the weapons from the rock and water planet and to do a little preliminary interviewing of the suspects.

Of course, Ronon was kept on the weapons side of the investigation. No one wanted to pull him off any more guards considering how many he had thrown around before Teyla brought him down.

Sheppard stared moodily at the doorway, wanting an update. Just knowing that someone he had picked to be a member of the Atlantis personnel who had then tried to kill him was definitely eating away at him.

He'd always been somewhat of a screw-up, but John had hoped he could do this one thing that Elizabeth had entrusted to him without messing it up.

Sheppard hissed in pain as his right hand automatically went to his right thigh, looking for his gun. Its reassuring weight was gone, replaced by white scrubs, so he balled his hand into a fist.

He wanted his gun, but Beckett had insisted that he wasn't well enough to have it.

He now had a roommate of sorts. The guard that Ronon had practically throttled in the cell room was a couple of beds down with his knee propped up and his neck turning red and purple.

That wasn't counting the four mean looking Marines that were at the door, glaring at anyone who passed by the infirmary.

'Too little, too late,' John mentally snorted to himself, not feeling any safer. 'Yeah, who needs a 9 mil.?' He stopped himself before he raised his hand as if he were in high school volunteering to go to art club instead of staying in biology to cut up some poor frog.

John sat up slowly in his bed, his left arm across his stomach to ease the pain and the right arm propping him up to study the damage from the grenade. The hastily swept up confetti and burned items teased him from the corner as he sullenly tried to will himself better so that he could participate in the upcoming formal interviews.

John wanted to be there, to look in their eyes as the members of his new teams explained what happened to them on the desolate planet. He wanted to see if he could tell if one of them was lying.

"Ah, still wallowing I see," remarked Rodney as he had some of his flying lab monkeys drag in some boxes and place them next to Sheppard's bed.

"I'm . . . not wallowing," croaked John.

Rodney snorted. "Sure, whatever. Anyway, I have a present for you." The scientist was practically bouncing on his toes.

John raised an eyebrow, one of the few things on his body that didn't hurt. He tried not to let Rodney see that his right arm was shaking like a leaf, as it grew weaker from trying to support his upper body. "Really?"

McKay snapped his fingers at his flying lab monkeys and then equipment started to appear and be attached to the infirmary bed.

"Yes, I feel responsible now that I've saved your ungrateful life—again—so I brought you something to test for me."

John moaned and briefly closed his eyes. "I've thanked you. Over and . . . over again."

"You know, in some societies I would now legally own you. Several times over, in fact. You're just so much chattel right now."

"McKay—"

Rodney turned away with his hand-held computer, taped a few commands, and then barked at his people.

Beckett popped up suddenly, making Sheppard jump, causing pain to throb through his body. He listed to the side and groaned. That caused his side and abdomen to tighten painfully.

"Colonel, I told you not to sit up. What am I going to do with you?"

Sheppard tried not to grab his injured side as the pain died down. He did have the decency to look ashamed of himself. "I sat up . . . and then couldn't get back down." He winced at the look Beckett shot at him. "Hey, don't look at me . . . talk to McKay. He says he owns me . . . so I'm not responsible for my actions right now."

"That's not what I said," grumbled McKay.

Beckett stepped forward and put a strong hand on Sheppard's back. "Okay, now I want you to slowly relax and let me do the work."

Sheppard nodded with his eyes screwed shut. He allowed his arms and body to relax and Beckett took his weight without complaint.

John was slowly lowered to the bed and he sighed in relief when his head hit the pillow.

"Now, that's better, isn't it? Don't get up again until I say you can," said Beckett in his best 'don't mess with me, I'm the doctor' tone of voice.

"Sure, Doc. I won't." And he wasn't lying; he wasn't going to try that again anytime soon. It hurt too damn bad.

McKay shook his head and then slapped a rectangular metal box next to Sheppard's left hand. "Now, touch it and think 'on.' Just pretend it's one of your space bimbos."

"What is . . . all of this?" Sheppard eyed the set up with trepidation.

"It's a portable H.U.D." The smugness was thick in Rodney's voice. "I managed to scrounge up some extra parts from the Jumpers you've managed to crash, and a few things from the Wraith Dart you stole . . . and maybe an extra Atlantis part here and there."

"Atlantis parts? Rodney—"

"Yes, yes, never mind that now. Think 'on' like a good little lab rat."

John closed his eyes and thought 'on' at the thing, his left hand caressing the metal box. He popped open one eye when he heard a feminine gasp to see a nurse through a green heads-up display that was hanging in mid air.

"Wow," murmured the nurse, her eyes going from the H.U.D. to McKay.

McKay bounced on the balls of his feet again. "Yes, genius here."

"Very impressive," replied the nurse with a smile as she ran a hand through the display, causing a faint ripple. "Do you know how to fix laptops?" she asked coyly.

Rodney seemed to swell up to the size of his ego. "Of course!"

Sheppard watched through the H.U.D. images as McKay tapped a few buttons on an open laptop, which was on a roll around tray table beside the nurse.

"See, you just need to do this . . . and this . . . there, that will fix it."

The nurse smiled again. "Thank you, Dr. McKay!" She grabbed the tray table and pushed it over to the young Marine with the propped up leg two beds down. "Hey, Karl, I got your laptop fixed! You want to play a game of Solitaire with me while I'm on break?"

The Marine with perfect teeth and perfect hair flashed the nurse a mega watt smile as he opened the game program.

McKay stopped bouncing, frowning at the couple.

John shifted painfully and motioned for McKay to come closer. As McKay bent close, John grinned. "If the women don't find you handsome . . . they should at least find you handy," he whispered weakly.

"Hey! I'll have you know—"

"Just kidding, Rodney." Sheppard tried not to snicker; his side would not be able to take the shaking. His hazel eyes went back to the H.U.D. "This is very cool. Very, very cool."

McKay was still glaring at him and at the young Marine playing a game with the nurse. "Good, because you're going to be testing it for me during the interviews."

Their attention was drawn from the H.U.D. when the four guards stiffened and moved out of the way of a still furious looking Major Lorne.

"Major . . . report."

Lorne nodded to his CO, put his crutches together, and hopped over to a chair. He flopped down with a grunt.

Beckett popped in again. "Major, I told you to take it easy on that leg. You don't want to get any complications from re-injuring it."

Lorne waved him away. "I'm fine, Doc. It just hurts from the long walk up. I'll sit here for a while. I promise."

Beckett pointed a finger at the Major and Lorne threw up his hands in surrender.

"I promise, Doc. Cross my heart."

"Just remember that," responded Carson as he turned to collect his nurse from the bedside of the young Marine.

After the doctor was gone, Lorne turned to Sheppard. "I've talked to the guards in the cell room. It seems that a few of the prisoners wanted playing cards and pillows, and then Dr. Mawyer wanted to go to the restroom. The guard took them out in two groups, and broke up the teams in case one of them decided to make a break for it."

McKay was frowning so hard, the left corner of his mouth was slanting. "If the guards were with the groups, then how did your new list of suspects get access to this area?"

Lorne heaved a sigh. "They forgot to take a female guard, so they couldn't monitor Mawyer. And the two men that did go got into a 'philosophical' discussion with Woodson and they completely lost track of the male prisoners for at least four or five minutes."

Sheppard's eyes hardened. "Oh, a 'philosophical' discussion. I know what that means—women or sex. I want those two back on the Daedalus and sent back to Earth."

"Colonel—"

"No . . . we can't afford to have Marines that don't take their jobs here seriously. We're in a war. You . . . understand me?"

"Yes, sir!" The Major looked at the floor. "They have been taken off duty and confined to quarters."

"Good. Now what . . . about the recovered weapons?"

"All accounted for and none were recently fired, sir."

Now Sheppard frowned. "None?"

"No, sir. I did find evidence in one of the guns of inadequate maintenance, but none of them were fired on the planet."

"I want you to contact the SGC and get every . . . scrap of paper they have on the new people."

"Yes, sir."

Sheppard turned his head to glare at the H.U.D. as he thought of what happened on P3M-390. And was surprised when a topographical map of the planet popped up in the green image.

McKay eagerly leaned forward. "Ah-ha! I was over here." He put his hand over Sheppard's on the flat box and his hiding place behind the boulder started to glow red.

Lorne forgot his promise to Carson, got up and hopped over to lean on his CO's bed. "Wow."

Sheppard's face cleared. "Yeah, wow." He concentrated again and little red dots began to spot the map. "This is where I put the teams . . . when we set up watch. Teyla and Ellmore were at the gate."

"Don't forget that Ronon came over to watch the scientist like they were five year olds," snorted Rodney.

"Yeah, and I was here on the rocks," murmured John as his eyes half closed in thought. "What else did you see, McKay. I . . . was down by then."

McKay nudged Sheppard's hand over for better contact with the device. "I saw White, Mawyer and Grant over by the water." The red dots glowed brighter. "And Ronon. Then the shot . . . and Meeks, Woodson and Turner showed up as ordered to stay with the scientists."

The images on the map changed to show the new positions from the original watch positions.

Sheppard nodded slowly. "Call Ronon and Teyla. Maybe they can add to the map."

-------

It didn't take long for Teyla and Ronon to arrive at the infirmary.

Teyla came in first with a stack of papers. Her chin was tilted with one of her eyebrows raised in barely suppressed amusement at the man who clopped in behind her.

Ronon was snarling as he entered, causing the Marine he had attempted to strangle to shrink back in his bed and attempt to hide behind his laptop.

Sheppard and McKay both looked up at the same time and saw the huge shiner on the Satedan's face.

"Damn, what the hell happened in . . . the cell room to give you a bruise like that?" asked John with a dry, almost soundless whistle.

Ronon just glared at Teyla, who pursed her lips in all innocence.

"Colonel, I'm glad you are feeling somewhat better," the Athosian leader said as she moved closer to the green mid-air display. "You wish us to add to your map?"

Sheppard nodded. "Yes, I was down and McKay was behind . . . a rock. Just tell me what you saw . . . and I'll put it up on the map."

Teyla stepped forward to study the image. "I was here, by the stargate. Private Ellmore was with me—here." She pointed a finger at the gate symbol. "That was all that I could see until we took a head count of the teams."

"Ronon?"

"I didn't see anything but the scientist diving for cover."

Rodney snorted. "I saw you diving for cover just as fast."

"Rodney," grunted Sheppard.

"What? The scientist weren't the only ones diving for cover is all I'm saying."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Okay, so that leaves Hernandez, Shay, Tuck, Bitterman, Killip and . . . Cash unaccounted for."

Teyla offered up her papers. "Here are the pre-interviews that Major Lorne requested. Corporal Halford was kind enough to keep notes in English."

Lorne took the papers and flipped through them until he got to what looked like a crude sketch. The Major shoved the sketch at McKay.

"Oh, looks like Lieutenant Tuck is a wannabe map maker. I should be able to add this to the H.U.D. He is a little off on his distance measurements. Oh, and that rock wasn't over there—"

"McKay, the positions?"

"Sure-sure," nodded Rodney to Sheppard. He put his hand on the corner of the box and lit up seven more positions.

"Who's this down here?" asked Lorne. One of the dots was in front of a rock, not behind one.

McKay looked back at the crude sketch. "Lieutenant Tuck says that it was Lieutenant Hernandez."

"What the hell . . . was he doing without cover?" asked Sheppard.

Lorne flipped throw the pre-interviews until he reached Hernandez's. "Says he was trying to get to you after you were shot—until his Sergeant told him he'd most likely get shot for his troubles."

Ronon rumbled in agreement. He would have taken down anyone who had come close to Sheppard without permission.

Lorne pulled away from the bed, the notes in his hands as he hopped back to his crutches. He stuffed the information down the front of his vest to free up his hands.

"Interview time?" asked Sheppard wistfully.

"I think so, sir. Can I borrow Teyla?"

Sheppard nodded. "I guess Ronon has to stay here."

Lorne gave the big warrior a hard look. "Yes, I'm not letting him near the prisoners after what happened."

Ronon just glared right back.

"I'll send off that request for the records, Major," said Rodney briskly. "I have a few projects that need checking on in the labs. I'll be back later to see how you're doing with the H.U.D., Colonel."

After they cleared out, Sheppard was left with a pissed off Satedan, a slightly cowering Marine two beds down, and four guards. He tried to ignore them by playing with his new toy, making the little red dots glow as he labeled them with names and ranks.

John still wished he were going to the interviews.

Then a weird thing happened.

TBC . . .


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

Spoilers: Suspicion, Trinity and Critical Mass, maybe others.

Beta: J.A.B. – but any remaining mistakes are my own.

A/N: Any resemblance to actual medical procedure is purely by accident.

No, this is the same fic, just bear with me.

-------

It was good to get away from their duties, especially training the new personnel in Atlantis. This trip to the Mainland was just the thing to ease their headaches and give two of the top people in the city a chance to worry about nothing more than getting the next batch of medicine to Teyla's village.

"I swear they're doing it just to screw with me," said Rodney from the co-pilot's seat, his hands full with his computer as he tapped away. The typing was accompanied by little 'huh' noises from the scientist.

From the pilot's control, Sheppard was kicked back in his chair and using minimal contact to fly the Puddle Jumper, relaxation written all over his body. "Rodney, just lighten up. This is a mini-vacation—remember? Absolutely no shop talk."

Rodney didn't reply to the 'no shop talk' comment as he kept his eyes on his computer screen. "I mean, what does it sound like to you? Every time I leave them alone to finish a project and come back, I find them huddled in a corner and giggling. They're screwing with me, the flying monkeys."

John heaved a sigh and shook his head in exasperation. Then he shot out a hand and jabbed at the window frantically. "Oh, look Rodney, an actual flying monkey! Right there!"

There was no response from McKay, just the clackity-clackity of computer keys.

"And it's carrying a ZPM covered in chocolate," wheedled John in a higher voice.

Rodney's head came up with a snap. "What? A chocolate covered ZedPM? What are you going on about?" However, McKay was finally looking away from his computer and out at the beautiful sky.

It was perfect weather—for flying monkeys or Puddle Jumpers.

"You work too hard," snorted John as he adjusted their flight path to circle the coast of the Mainland to take in the gentle waves, bright beaches and clear blue water.

"Working relaxes me," whined McKay. "What do you want me to do, put on a Hawaiian shirt, drink fruity drinks and sing 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' until I pass out?"

"That would be a start, we only have four hours. Time's a wasting."

Rodney put down his computer next to his co-pilot's chair. "Fine, I'm stopping. This is me—stopping." It took all of three second for the scientist to start tapping his fingers on his seat in agitation. "It's just—"

John bowed his head in defeat to the McKay workaholic ethic.

"It's just that Mawyer is driving me nuts. She never lets me look her work over on her computer. She always prints it out. That's just . . . just a waste of paper!"

"Maybe she just likes to keep her computer private," said John with a raised eyebrow. "You don't like sharing either. I remember that time Zelenka tried to—"

"Okay, okay! So I don't like to share, but I'm the boss . . . the big cheese . . . the head honcho. I'm the one that gets to snap my fingers and have my way. Not anyone else. You know how long it took me to get to where I am today? Years." McKay made a harrumphing noise. "I've earned the right to snap my fingers at a few flying lab monkeys."

"I bet your monkeys want to snap something else of yours," muttered Sheppard.

"What?"

"Nothing," said John in a falsely cheerful voice and raised eyebrows of innocence.

"And all the giggling in the corner with the other females. I swear, it's starting to make me paranoid."

"Like you weren't already?"

"Shut up, Colonel," huffed McKay. "Are we there yet?"

-------

There was a sharp smell and then a pain on his left cheek. A sound reverberated in his head, like the sound of a slap, but he couldn't tell at the moment.

"Colonel?" asked Carson Beckett's voice. It was worried and tense, but trying to stay calm. For a moment, the voice blended with McKay's, and Sheppard was still in the Puddle Jumper talking about Mawyer and giggling.

"Colonel, are you there?" asked Beckett, his brogue deep.

Sheppard opened his eyes, surprised that they had been closed. "What's . . . going on?" He felt a trickle of water and reached up shakily to find that his forehead was soaked with sweat. His face felt flushed, especially on the left side.

A cool cloth touched his face and he almost closed his eyes again at the fantastic feeling as it wiped away his warm sweat.

John could hear pacing and growling, but he was too disorientated to figure out what was happening around him, just to lie on his bed and try to regain his strength.

"I'm not sure, Colonel. We left you a moment while you were testing the H.U.D. and Ronon came back and noticed you were unresponsive. We had to take some . . . measures to get you back. We've called Rodney. He's on his way right now."

On cue, Rodney burst into the infirmary, gasping for air. As soon as he crossed the infirmary threshold, he stood for a moment with his hands on his knees, heaving from the run from his labs. "Is . . . he awake yet?"

When Beckett didn't answer right away, Rodney hung his head. "Oh, god . . . I've killed him."

Beckett looked away from John's drained face to look at the keyed up scientist. "Now, calm down, the lot of ya. Rodney, he's not dead, just dead tired. And Ronon, you need to stop pacing before you wear a hole in the floor, lad."

Sheppard slowly turned his head to see a scowling Ronon walking back and forth with a piece of the H.U.D. held tightly in his right hand. The part was trialing wires on the floor as he moved.

Rodney noticed at the same time. "Oh, what did you do, you Neanderthal?" He reached out and snatched the piece away from the fuming warrior. "This is a very important piece! I can't replace this without—"

"Sheppard wouldn't wake up until I pulled it out, _scientist_," Ronon sneered the last word as he loomed over Rodney's shorter form.

Rodney pushed back from Ronon, finally noticing the heated glare as he took his eyes from the destroyed H.U.D. part. He stumbled into a quick retreat to the other side of Sheppard's bed.

"Rodney," whispered Sheppard. "The Jumper. . . Mawyer . . ."

Beckett leaned in closer to John, pressing the wet cloth to the disorientated man's forehead. "Just relax now, Colonel. It's over."

"Wait, what did he say about Mawyer and the Jumper?" asked McKay as he put down the H.U.D. part.

Sheppard weakly pushed Beckett's hand away and looked at McKay, trying to convey more than he was saying. "Medicine run . . . you bitching about Mawyer's computer."

The scientist's eyes grew large. "The H.U.D. showed you the trip we took to the Mainland?" McKay looked stunned. "That-that was weeks ago."

Rodney turned one of the components away from the bed and tapped out a command on a small keyboard. "This was that Jumper's H.U.D. Huh. I didn't design it to do that—just imagine the applications!"

Sheppard shrank back from the H.U.D. as McKay started to babble, the pilot's cheeks starting to flush, his eyes glazed.

"Rodney, not now, the Colonel isn't well enough for more experiments," said Beckett sharply as he noticed his patient's distress. "Why don't you go help the Major and Teyla with the interviews?"

McKay looked at Sheppard and noticed the deep-seated fear in the glazed eyes. McKay slowly stepped away from the H.U.D. and John immediately started to relax. The tired man was almost into a semi-sleep, his eyes closing in exhaustion when Rodney answered Beckett. "Sure, I'll-I'll go help with the interviews. Call me if . . . if he gets worse."

"That I will, Rodney."

-------

McKay was in a foul mood by the time he reached the room picked out for the interview. "Yes, just test out the experimental device while you're recovering from a gunshot wound, Colonel . . . no problem. The man's half dead and you manage to make it worse—"

"Dr. McKay?"

Rodney turned to see Teyla and Major Lorne sitting at the interview table staring at him strangely. He cleared his throat self-consciously and put his hands behind his back. "I've, uh, decided to help with the interviews."

"Yeah," said Lorne, putting his crutches on the floor. "It has nothing to do with the H.U.D. project and Colonel Sheppard."

Rodney scowled as he took the seat beside Teyla. "That-that . . . Beckett called you didn't he?"

Teyla leaned over and placed a calming hand on Rodney's arm. "He told us there was an unexpected side effect and that you were both upset, but that the Colonel is now peacefully sleeping."

McKay deflated a bit. "Oh, good . . . okay then. Who are we talking to first?"

-------

Dr. Katy Mawyer looked around the interview room with anxiety, her tears just under the surface as Lorne, McKay and Teyla sat opposite her.

"So, Doctor, where were you when Colonel Sheppard was shot on P3M-390?" asked Lorne, his face unreadable under the harsh lighting of the room.

Mawyer rubbed her arms as if she were cold and licked her lips nervously. "I was over by the water, with Jeromy and Henry, uh . . . Dr. Grant and Dr. White. We were taking water samples."

"Did you see anyone acting out of the ordinary—anything suspicious?"

Mawyer canted her head at the Major and rubbed her arms even harder. "It was my first mission. I don't know what would be suspicious or out of the ordinary. I did see that man on Colonel Sheppard's team come over to watch us."

"Ronon Dex?" asked Lorne.

Mawyer nodded. "I think that's his name. He's very large and . . . very scary."

McKay snorted which earned him a kick under the table from Teyla.

"I have a question," said McKay as he glared at Teyla, rubbing his leg. "You never let me see your computer when I review your work on your assigned projects. Want to tell me why that is?"

Mawyer's eyes darted back and forth, her arm rubbing turned into a clutch that made her fingers white. "Uh, do I? I just figured it would be easier if you had a print out—"

Rodney shook his head. "No one else does it. You had to notice." McKay slid forward in his chair and tapped the table, his voice getting stronger. "Just what are you hiding on your computer? Hmmm? Contraband? Games? Or something more sinister?"

Mawyer's eyes got big. "Sinister? What? No, no, no, nothing like that. It's just . . . a little embarrassing. Do I have to say?" she asked Lorne, her face pleading. "It's just something I did and I let some of the girls see it . . ."

Then she giggled the hated giggle from the lab. The one that drove Rodney crazy.

McKay almost half stood. "That! There it is! That giggle. Every time I left the lab and came back, she was always giggling. It's just . . . just disturbing!"

Mawyer was giggling so hard her breath was coming in gasps. All she could do was reach into her jacket and throw down a picture wallet on the table.

Lorne poked at the wallet suspiciously and then opened it, and then he was laughing as well.

"What?" demanded McKay, grabbing for the wallet. He opened it up to see four pictures of himself in various situations—in the lab shouting, in the control room with a frown, and in the mess eating Jell-O—all with small multicolor kissy lips at the bottom around his name.

When Rodney got to the fourth picture, his face went from white to red. "Well . . . huh . . . how did you get this picture? This looks like the lab's emergency shower—Oh, my god, I have a stalker!"

Mawyer gasped aloud and tried to control herself, but the giggling kept coming out. "I had that one on . . . screen saver. I couldn't let you see it. But the girls . . . they loved it!"

Lorne grunted and grabbed the pictures away from the blushing McKay. "This is evidence, Doc."

The Major had to firmly push Teyla's hands away from the 'evidence.'

-------

The next one to be interviewed was Pvt. Norman Bitterman, one of Lieutenant Tuck's men.

The Marine's angelic looking face and childlike indigo eyes were quickly belied by his harsh words. "Does she have to be here?"

Lorne flipped open the file he had on Bitterman, and paged to his service record to start the questioning. "Who?"

Bitterman pointed at Teyla with the lift of his chin. "The Wraith bitch. Does she have to be here? From what scuttlebutt I hear around here, she was giving information away to the enemy at one point."

Teyla tilted her head and through clenched teeth responded. "You, and the 'scuttlebutt,' are mistaken, Pvt. Bitterman. I never willingly gave information to the Wraith."

"Nah, that's not what I heard. I heard you beat up a few people, including Bates and Sheppard. We all know why Sheppard keeps you around," Bitterman said with a leer. "But why Dr. Weir puts up with it—ack!"

He got no further as Teyla launched herself across the table to punch the man across the face. Lorne tried to struggle up with his bad leg, McKay right behind him, as both tried to grab the enraged woman before she seriously hurt the ignorant Marine.

The Major finally got a good hold on Teyla's jacket and pulled her back, just as her hands gripped Bitterman's neck. "Come on, Teyla! Stop it! He's turning blue!"

McKay pulled on Teyla's arms as Lorne leaned back to put his weight on her jacket, his leg starting to throb painfully. They finally dragged her off the Private and he sat in his chair gasping and holding his jaw.

"Damn crazy Wraith bitch! You have to be seriously putting out to stay around here with a temper like that. Maybe you've got more than the Colonel—"

"Okay, that's just about enough!" muttered McKay and he turned away from Teyla to launch himself across the table to throttle the mouthy man.

"Doc! Come on, he's not worth it!" yelled Lorne as he let Teyla go to dive for the furious scientist. "Damn!" he hissed as his broken leg hit the table solidly causing a burst of agony.

Teyla was absolutely no help to Lorne in trying to pry McKay off Bitterman. She was too busy trying to climb over the Major and the table to help McKay choke the rude man.

"Damn it! Guards! Guards!" yelled Lorne, wondering when he'd lost control of the situation, and hoping no one thought to pick up one of his crutches to use as a club.

-------

Both McKay and Teyla trudged into the infirmary with dour expressions.

Teyla was now sporting a split lip on her fine featured face and McKay was limping slightly as, with a groan, he practically threw himself on the nearest infirmary bed.

Ronon glowered with an edgy grin at Teyla, fingering his own purple bruise under his eye. "He's turning blue," he mimicked in a high voice. "You should know better," he said, repeating the words she had used on him after his own fight with the guards in the cell room.

Teyla just glared right back, her arms crossed over her chest and her upper lip slightly elevated to show her white teeth.

"Yeah, well, where's the doctor around here? I think my knee is broken," complained McKay from his bed which was between Sheppard and the bed-ridden Marine from Ronon's fight with the guards. "Between Teyla kicking me and kneeing that ass . . . remind me to never knee a man in the groin again. I need drugs. Lots and lots of drugs."

Lorne came in behind them, clattering on his crutches, sneaking looks around for Beckett. The Doc was going to kill him for hitting his leg on the table during the melee. It felt like he'd broken the damn thing again.

Bringing up the rear were two guards, one was half dragging his buddy, who was holding his family jewels. The other was leading a cuffed Bitterman who was rubbing his battered face.

As soon as the 'wounded' guard was placed near a bed, he crawled up and curled into a protective ball of misery. Bitterman just slumped down in a plastic chair.

"Here, now, what's all this," asked Beckett as he appeared at the door.

Everyone just groaned.

-------

Ronon watched as Beckett patched up his new patients, his eyes going from the new people to Sheppard, who was still partially asleep.

The Colonel was clearly done for the day, the last of his energy used up by the experimental H.U.D.

Ronon didn't want to leave him unguarded. At a time like this, a man needed his closest supporters nearby, but Ronon had a theory that he wanted to check out on P3M-390.

He hadn't thought he would get the opportunity with McKay and Teyla doing other things, but now that they were both banned from the interviews, just like he was, Ronon could now put his plan into action.

The big man stood and caught Teyla's attention. The woman narrowed her eyes at him.

"Keep an eye on Sheppard. I've got to go."

Without waiting for her answer, the Satedan turned on his heel and left the infirmary.

-------

"So, let me get this straight. You want to go back to P3M-390—alone."

Ronon had thought his biggest obstacle in going back would be getting supplies, but it turned out to be a woman by the name of Dr. Elizabeth Weir. "Yes."

"To do what exactly?"

Ronon stopped himself before he rolled his eyes. He'd taken care of himself for years while on the run from the Wraith. Nothing on that rock and water planet was going to harm him. "I think I know where the gun is located."

"The gun?"

Really, he didn't think Weir was this dense, but she seemed determine not to understand a word that was coming out of his mouth. "The gun that shot Sheppard."

Weir narrowed her eyes for a moment. "You think the gun is still on the planet?"

"Looks like. It wasn't one that we brought back."

"And you've cleared this with Beckett and Lorne?"

Beckett—yes, Lorne—no. Ronon just shrugged in answer.

"Okay, but keep in contact every fifteen minutes. I don't want something happening to another member of the team if it can be helped."

Ronon just shrugged again, hefted his supplies and stepped through the active gate.

-------

It took just three minutes of looking to find the gun.

Ronon grunted in satisfaction and then shucked out of his clothing.

TBC . . .

I'll leave you with that mental picture until the next chapter . . . mwahahaha!


End file.
